Sunday, June 24, 2012

Get Your Dinghy Twanged

Last night I went to Chellie's birthday party at a bar down the street, and because LSD and I were so busy with home improvement tasks, when we looked at the clock, it was already 11:30PM. Needless to say, everyone was rather ham-boned when we got there, and we were stone sober. My homie, Oats, was no exception.

There was a karaoke DJ booked solely for the party, and when I came through the door, Oats reached out to tenderly grab hold of my face and beckoned me to join him for a song later. It was awesomely gay. Later he was telling LSD the story of when we were eating beef sandwiches and watching netflix over by his place after a long night at the bars, and he got a booty call at around 2:30AM. He said he had to take her up on it, and I was too tired to go home, so I just crashed there. When he came home the next morning, he found me sleeping in his bed. Sort of a dick move on my part, but when your host leaves you at his house for some ass, the guest is entitled to upgrade his sleeping situation, no?

The point of this post is to bring you a new colloquialism for coitus that Oats invented on the fly while telling this story:

Oats: So I take off to go get my dinghy twanged, whatever that means.

(We all start laughing at this point, and he joined in, wondering how in the hell he blurted out such a fun and silly phrase, and then he jumps back into his story.)

Oats: So, yeah, I go off to go get my dinghy twanged.

(He uses the phrase again! Right away! Let's see if it catches on, all you dinghy-twangers out there . . .)